


A Bit of Normal (male!reader)

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hunter Life, Life is hard, M/M, no mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: [Y/N] is a hunter, a tired hunter. Dean, a good hunter friend, pays [Y/N] a visit and things change.theme: the weight of life and the need for a break from it





	A Bit of Normal (male!reader)

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes in three pronoun flavours. Here, you have the He, but it's also available in [She](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300165) and in [They](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312072). :D  
> Also, this is all [available on Tumblr](https://cloverhighfivewritestoo.tumblr.com/post/185760657187/a-bit-of-normal).

[Y/N] had been sitting on his balcony since the crack of dawn, but he was still groggy. His second cup of coffee half drunk, cold, on the little table beside him served only as a reminder of days when things were clear and simple. Those days were long gone.

Monsters had come. Some with fangs, some with claws, some with strange powers. Every hunter has an inception story, his was as bloody as anyone else’s. But he had been the one with the best survival skills it seems because here he was, sipping cold coffee, alone yet alive.  
It had been a few years now of his driving around the country, staying at cheap motels, and coming back home between hunts to try and decide if he can just let everything go and get back to a normal life with a 9-to-5 and friends to go have a beer with on Fridays.

But he was cursed. Cursed with a burden, a responsibility, cursed with the knowledge of what is out there, cursed with the capacity of dealing with it. Cursed with the ability to save people. Cursed with the need to make a difference.

His phone buzzed. Seeing the name, he smiled. “Hey Dean.” “Hey [Y/N]. I’m in the area, fancy a brunch?” “Hmm…” “Are you alright? What’s going on?” “Nothing. Grab something and come here instead?” “What about I grab a pancake mix? You sound like you need pancakes.” “You’re the best.” “Be right there.”

Dean was that hunk of a hunter that saved him once, whom [Y/N] saved another time, and with whom he’d hunted a few times – sometimes planned, sometimes by chance. In a violent world that demands way too much beheading – and laundry skills to get blood out of clothes way too often – Dean Winchester stood out. He was ruthless and efficient, but once the monster was down, he was the softest guy. Without skipping a beat, he’d turn around and make sure everyone was alright and then when every human was in good care, he’d tag along with [Y/N] back to his room or his apartment to help him with his wounds. Nothing [Y/N] said could convince Dean he was fine and didn’t need anything. [Y/N] would pay Dean with whiskey. They’d talk all night, catch up, laugh. Sometimes, they were too tired and sore, they’d just watch tv and barely touch the whiskey. Sometimes, [Y/N] would fall asleep on the sofa, his head on Dean’s shoulder. He’d wake up the morning after tucked in his bed fully dressed – minus the boots – a thank you/see ya around/take care note and a sandwich on the table.

So Dean was coming. [Y/N] just had time to sluggishly get some decent clothes on and start another pot of coffee that the bell rang. As he opened the door, he barely caught the flash of a smile and crinkly green eyes before he was caught in a bear hug, “Heyyyy [Y/N], it’s been too long!” Too surprised to fully lean into it, [Y/N] answered “I think it’s been a month, actually”. Dean let go and looked him in the eye, “too long anyway.”

Dean picked up the grocery bag he’d dropped on the floor in favour of the hug, passed [Y/N] into the apartment, heading to the kitchen, shaking the pancake mix over his head. “How many do you want?”  
[Y/N] sat at the island and watched Dean strip to his t-shirt and rummage around for milk and butter. He’d been at his apartment a few times and although it had never been discussed, he felt at home and [Y/N] let him go about as if he was.

This time though something was different. It’s not Dean’s breathtaking shoulders and how [Y/N] could hint at the shape of his body under the thin garment. He’d seen him without a shirt, cause he had stitched him up a few times. It was not Dean’s humming, he’d heard him hum when he was cleaning his guns. It was not the way Dean moved either, [Y/N] knew his shape well enough to make him out in almost pitch darkness, his own blood dripping in his eyes.

Dean turned and put a short stack in front of [Y/N], smiling. “Start with those.” [Y/N] didn’t move, he just stared at him, head cocked lightly. Dean gave a puzzled look. “What?” [Y/N] took the time to look at him. “I don’t know… something’s different.” Dean looked at himself quickly, a bit of panic in his eyes. “What do you mean, different?” “I don’t know.” Dean squinted and looked at [Y/N] sideways. “Different good or different bad?” [Y/N] chuckled. “Definitely good. Gimme the syrup.”

They brought their plates and coffees on the balcony and ate slowly. Dean sat back between mouthfuls, looking at the trees in the park. “I think I can’t remember the last time I just ate. No research on the table, no conversation about a hunt with Sam, no computer pinging in the background, no phone beeping some alarm. Just. Just this. Just eating.” He looked back at [Y/N], finished swallowing his pancake. “This is nice. We should do this more often.”

Dean thought [Y/N] would smile at his suggestion, but he saw him hugging his mug, looking away. “You ok?” [Y/N] seemed pulled from some reverie. “Yeah. It’s just that, though. The hunter life. You get so caught up, little things as simple as a meal can’t be enjoyed.” Dean put his fork down. “Look, [Y/N]…” “No, Dean, it’s alright. I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.” Dean dragged his chair close to [Y/N]’s. “Hey hey hey… no…” He laid a hand gently on his arm. “Look at me…” He waited for him to turn around. “Look, [Y/N], I know, it’s a hard life. But it’s worth it. I mean, you got me, right?” Saying that, he smiled softly at [Y/N]. He gestured to the table. “And we’re enjoying this, right now.” [Y/N] looked at the half-eaten plates of pancakes, an uncertain smile on his face. Dean added, “and I can come around from time to time, and we can have pancakes like this, or waffles. I can get you a waffle iron.” [Y/N] looked at Dean, his smile a little wider. Dean seemed satisfied. He leaned in, cradled [Y/N]’s head with his hand and gave him a kiss on the temple. “Want me to warm up that coffee?”

They mostly ate in silence, and, once their plates were empty, they started catching up. It was nice and simple, the way they talked and liked to tell their stories in a way that would make the other gasp in surprise or laugh.

Finally, Dean got up. “I’m gonna help you clean up before I head back.” “Already?” “I still have quite a few hours to drive.” “Yeah, OK.”  
“I wash, you dry?” “Yes, Mr. Winchester.” He looked at him with a smile and filled the sink. [Y/N] found himself absorbed with Dean’s hands. Dean’s hands in the soapy water, Dean’s hands scrubbing, Dean’s hand handing him a clean dish with a glance to make sure he was done with the last one and ready for this one. The quiet rhythm of it was soothing. When it was all done, [Y/N] sat at the island, watching Dean wipe the counter and the stove top.

Dean threw the rag in the sink and turned around triumphantly. “All done!” But he found a pensive [Y/N] looking back at him. “What?” “I’m thinking about what I said earlier. How this… it’s different.” “You mean the good different.” [Y/N] didn’t answer the question. “Do you really have to go now?” “Well, I guess…” Dean looked at his watch.

And while Dean looked at his watch with a little crinkle between his eyebrows, [Y/N] got up and around the island, and stood but an inch from him. “Please, Dean.” He wrapped his arms slowly around him, nestling his head on his chest. Dean took him in and held him. After a moment, Dean asked, in a whisper, “What’s going on?” He heard [Y/N]’s muffled response, “Nothing. I’ve missed you.” And, saying this, [Y/N] held Dean tighter, and Dean held him tighter, laying his cheek on his head. [Y/N] felt him breathe in slowly, his body relax.

[Y/N] gave Dean a squeeze and looked up. “I know what’s different.” “Tell me.” “We’re not spending time together because we just escaped death, we didn’t just gut some thing that was eating people. This. This here. It’s… normal.” Dean brought him closer but didn’t say a thing. “I like normal. Do you like normal?” Dean smiled, but it didn’t spread to his eyes. “I love normal. But we’re hunters. We don’t get to have normal.” “Dean, it’s the most normal I’ve had in years. And I have it with you. I don’t care if we have it once a month, once a year. This life is infinitely better when you’re around.” Dean looked at him softly, and bent slowly, reaching down for a kiss. It felt like a question, and hope. When they broke off, [Y/N] asked him, under his breath, “stay the night. You can drive back tomorrow.” Dean trailed his nose on [Y/N]’s cheek, gave him another short, soft kiss. “I can drive back tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe it? [ I made a masterlist on Ao3!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636974) All fics neatly sorted. Yay!


End file.
